Love
by crimson pieces
Summary: They were complete opposites, rich, poor, clean, dirty, passionate, indifferent yet they shared a bond unseen, untouched, unbearable, unbreakable, LOVE.


**Love**

Disclaimer: I, Natassha Yu, sadly do not own Hary Potter, there I said it. Are you happy now? (sniffle)

Draco Malfoy's life was as perfect as he had planned it to be. Everything had order, everything had its time, and place. Schedules, lists, and organization were key, and a must. If there was one thing he absolutely could not stand it was disorganization. The mere thought of it made him shudder.

Lifting his wrist, he checked his golden, polished watch to check the time. Good, he still had an hour and a half before he was expected at the doctor's office. Plenty of time to drop his newly purchased clothes off at his flat, clean up, and catch a cab.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted the collar of his stark white, pressed shirt and shook his head. He hoped whatever the doctor gave him made this terribly annoying cough disappear. How on earth had he gotten sick anyway? He made sure he took his vitamins in the morning, ate well, and he washed his perfectly manicured hands whenever the opportunity presented itself. Getting sick definitely was not on his schedule, and it only made things slow down.

Huffing indignantly, he roughly shoved they key to his flat in the lock and walked in. Placing his keys in their assigned spot on the table next to the door, he toed off his shoes, and placed them in the closet. No way was he getting his carpet dirty with muck from the streets. Slipping off his jacket, he pulled out a hanger, and hung it in the same closet with his shoes.

Sighing in relief to be home, even if he would have to leave again in a few minutes, he headed towards his sanctuary, his haven. Loosening the tie around his neck, he slipped it off and listened to the hissing sound it made. It reminded him of-no. He wasn't going there. Hanging the long, green silk tie on the rack next to its brethren, he picked through his purchases, deciding what to do with them.

Obviously they would have to be washed first, then ironed, and then hung in the closet according to color, and situation along with the rest of his clothes. However, all that would have to wait until later. Right now he had to prepare for his appointment. Opening his dresser drawers, he pulled out a perfectly folded pair of jeans, and shirt. Another drawer held his socks and undergarments, also folded to perfection and placed in their appropriate spots.

Looking over his selections, he nodded his head in agreement with himself in deciding to go casual. Business attire definitely didn't suit his doctors waiting room. Plus, he tended to get nervous under the doctors critical eye and sitting in a business suit could get hot enough without adding to it.

Padding over to his bathroom, he could feel the lush fiber of the carpet underneath his feet, and he relished in it. It was exactly why he had picked it for his bedroom. Once in the bathroom he laid his clothes on the counter next to the sink, and made his way over to the tub. Turning the tap on, he stopped it somewhere near the middle. He didn't even have to look where it stopped anymore, he had memorized the exact point where it needed to be for the water to come out perfectly. Not too hot, not too cold, but just the right amount of warmth to be soothing.

Slipping out of his clothes, he put them all in the hamper to be washed later. In his minds eye he saw tousled, dirty clothes, strewn about his bathroom floor. Draco used to hate it when hermi-no.

Stepping foot in the tub, he slid the door closed and let the water rush over his body, calming him. Leaning his head back, rolling his neck, he let the water completely soak his hair, turning it a tawny gold color instead of its usual platinum blonde. Tendrils stuck haphazardly to his face and he lifted his hands, brushing them aside. He picked up the shampoo he had purchased at the salon he frequented, and squeezed out the approximate dollop for his amount of hair. Waste not, want not. Next came his special conditioner, and after that his body wash. He had stuck to this particular scent for so long he was loathe to think of what he would do if they quit making it.

Draco was reluctant to turn off the water when he was finished. He really wanted to let the warmth of the water relax his tired muscles, but there wasn't enough time, and his schedule did not say, 'Take a long, hot, relaxing shower.' anywhere on it, so he slammed the tap off.

Reluctance also hit him when he thought of the cold air waiting for him just on the other side of the shower door. Sliding the door open a crack, he reached his hand out, snatched the pristine towel off the rack, and quickly pulled it into the warmth with him. Normally he would just slide the door open, and step out into the cold, telling himself to get over the goosebumps, and shivers. Deciding though, that this would be his one luxury for today, he toweled off inside the shower, slowly letting himself acclimate to the cold.

Dressing, brushing his teeth, and fixing his hair into it normal slicked back prison, he deemed himself ready after one last glance into the mirror. He saw something else in the mirror. Two tan hands rampaging through his hair, completely ruining all the work he had just done to make it presentable. Shaking his head fiercely, Draco left the bathroom, and walked to the front door. He absolutely refused to let his mind go any further. This was getting out of hand, and he was going to put a stop to it this moment.

Putting his shoes back on, and getting into his suede jacket to protect him from the fall cold, he picked up his keys, and headed out the door, locking it behind him. Taking the stairs one at a time-never two, that was asking for a broken neck-he made his way outside. Inhaling deeply, he enjoyed the pleasant smell of autumn. It was his favorite.

Hand raised, he walked to the curb, hailing the taxi he saw coming down the street. Hopping in, he gave the driver the address. Getting comfortable, Draco sat back, and enjoyed the view from the dingy window. All of a sudden he was in a good mood, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. Shrugging, he decided to enjoy the feeling while it lasted. He had an inkling it would disappear all too soon.

Draco sat calmly in the waiting room, trying fruitlessly to get comfortable in the hard, unforgiving chair. Whomever had picked them out needed a serious lesson in comfortable décor. Tapping his fingers along the wooden arm, Draco began to get impatient. Looking up at the clock, he checked the time on it, and then the time on his own watch. Five minutes. It was five minutes passed his appointed time. What in the world was wrong with these people? Didn't they understand he had a schedule to keep?

Looking around the badly wallpapered room, Draco inspected the other patients, trying to drown out the sound of the horribly acted soap opera one woman was watching on the telly. A child sat in a corner, playing with the box of toys that millions of other snot nosed, sickly children had already played with. Didn't the child's mother realize how dirty, and covered with germs they were? Looking over at her he realized that she probably didn't as she licked her finger, and turned the page of the magazine she was reading.

There was nothing in this world that would make him pick up one of those filthy things. Not after they had been through god knows how many sick peoples hands. Did no one in this office have a brain? Draco chanced a glance at the last person in the room and saw an elderly woman pulling old, used tissues out of her purse to wipe her nose. His lip curled up in disgust, and he turned his eyes just in time to see someone step through the door.

His heart fell into his stomach.

Well, there went his whole day. Draco watched the languid movements as the woman walked up to the counter, and spoke with the nurse. She handed her a clipboard, and a few papers, smiling. Draco ground his teeth in wanting to knock the smile off her face, but knowing he had no right to do so. He hadn't had that right in five years, and he didn't want it anymore. At least, that's what he forced his mind to tell himself.

Picking up a pen, he watched as the woman turned around, and began looking for a seat. Their eyes locked, and Draco's heart lifted from his stomach to his throat where it began to flutter endlessly. He wanted, oh, how he wanted to look away, but he was drowning in a pool of chocolate, and only one person could pull him out of it. Watching his expression change from one of shock to one of pure happiness, Draco saw the smile he used to love-still loved, though he would never admit it-spread across the beautiful woman's features.

Dread ran through Draco as she approached him, clipboard in hand. Looking expectantly at Draco, and the chair next to him, she rose an eyebrow in question, as if waiting for Draco to tell him it was okay that she sat there. Sighing when Draco merely looked the other way, placing a hand on his chin, and partially covering his mouth, she took the seat.

"Am I allowed to sit here, or are you going to bite my head off?" the woman asked, trying to get Draco to drop his hand, and look at her. There was no answer. "Well then, perhaps I will sit here, and do nothing but talk your ear off."

"It's a public place, Granger. You're allowed to sit wherever you please," Draco finally answered, still not looking at her. He knew if he didn't say anything, Granger would stay true to her word, and not shut up the entire time they were in each other's presence. Draco began to wonder how long that was going to be. He wasn't sure he could take it.

"So, how have you been?" Hermione dared to ask.

Draco whipped his head around, and sneered at her. "What are you doing here, Granger? Did you come just to torment me?" Draco asked, eyes scanning Hermione, inspecting her. Nothing had changed. Her clothes were still overly large, and wrinkled, her hair was still a tousled, unruly mess, and there was still dirt underneath her chewed-up fingernails. Draco's lip began to curl up. Had the woman never heard of an iron, or a comb? Draco didn't even want to think of where her hands had been. The thought made his stomach twist up into knots.

"No, actually, I didn't come here just for you. I'm here for the same reason you're here. To see the doctor. Unless your dating one of the nurses...Anyway, it was nice of you to ask about my health," Hermione said, eyes alight with mischief.

"I didn't. Do not twist my words around, Granger. Besides, your health is the last thing on my mind, I assure you," Draco fumed.

"Well then, may I inquire about yours?" Hermione asked, eyebrows raised.

"No, you may not," Draco spat. His words might have been polite, but his tone belied the message. "Fill out your paperwork Granger, and leave me alone," Draco crossed his arms over his chest, wondering where in the bleeding hell the doctor was. This was absolutely ridiculous.

Muttering under his breath about the incompetence of some people, Draco didn't dare glance over at Hermione. No matter how much he wanted to. Draco already knew Hermione was laughing and shaking her head at his impatience. Thoughts of how it used to be with her, how they chatted, and walked together hand in hand popped unwanted into his head. Then came those thoughts. Thoughts of lust, and desire. Skin, sweat, and ragged breath. Draco could feel his body temperature rise, and he began to squirm in his chair. Hermione's scent invaded his nostrils, only making his problem all the more annoying. Hermione's arm brushed his, and dear sweet-

"Draco Malfoy?" the nurse called out, searching the faces of the few in the waiting room.

"Thank god," Draco whispered, not seeing the smirk on Hermione's face as he left through the door.

Draco was led past a series of doors until the nurse stopped at one, and said sweetly, "The doctor will be with you in a minute."

Draco gave her a curt nod of his head, and entered the room. It smelled of bleach, and disinfectant. Draco's nose crinkled. He hopped up on the waiting bed, listening to the sound of the paper crinkling as he got settled. He didn't even have time to fully take in his surroundings, or think about him when the doctor entered the room.

"Mr. Malfoy," the doctor drawled, not looking up from his charts. "It says here you've had a recurring cough for the past few weeks. Why didn't you come in sooner?"

"My schedule didn't allow for it," Draco replied to the question as if the doctor should have known the answer already.

The doctor hmm'd in reply, putting on his stethoscope. Moving Draco's jacket aside, he placed it on his chest. Draco could feel the cold metal through his shirt.

"Breathe deep for me, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco inhaled deeply through his mouth, causing him to cough, and hack. He absolutely hated this.

"Once again."

'Bloody bastard,' Draco thought, breathing deep once more. Draco was beginning to sweat despite the chill in the room. He didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't get Hermione out of his head, even with the doctor in the room to distract him. Why the hell, after all this time, did she have to show up out of nowhere? Draco had thought he was doing a damn fine job of forgetting her, now he was going to be set back so far...

Draco was snapped out of his thoughts as the doctor placed a thermometer in his mouth.

"You look a bit warm, Mr. Malfoy. Just checking to see if you're running a fever," the doctor explained. Draco hated thermometers. Just the thought of how many peoples mouths they had been in made him gag, plastic wrapped or not.

Pulling the offending thing out of his mouth, Draco said, "I'm not running a fever." Looking at the doctor with a glare, Draco dared him to say something.

The doctor walked over to Draco, and placed a palm upon his forehead. Draco immediately jerked his head away. "You, Mr. Malfoy, have a fever," the doctor said impatiently.

"No, what I have is an irresistible urge to fuck my ex-girlfriend, who I haven't seen in five years, and who happens to be sitting less than ten feet away from me," Draco spat harshly, trying to get it through the doctor's thick skull that he knew what he was talking about when it came to his own body.

The doctor merely eyed him, unsure of what to say. By now, Draco knew that if he didn't leave this place within the next few minutes he would snap, and possibly go on a killing spree. Starting with his insane doctor, and ending with the 'used tissue lady'.

"I believe we're done here," Draco huffed, hopping down, and striding to the door.

"But, Mr. Malfoy, you're prescription," the doctor called after him. Draco ignored him, and kept walking straight to the waiting room. This was his test, and he swore he would pass it with flying colors, or he would kiss Weasley's feet. The urge to retch took over him at the thought.

Yanking the door open he stormed through the waiting room without looking at anything but his target. The door. Opening it, he made his way down the hallway to the elevators. Pressing the button to go down, he tapped his foot impatiently. Why did these things never seem to move fast enough when you were in a hurry? Draco let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding when the doors opened with an annoying ding. A coughing fit racked his chest when he pushed the button for the first floor.

Ahead of him, he could see the image of Hermione waving goodbye, slowly disappearing with the closing of the doors. Part of him really wanted Hermione to chase after him, and the other part of him wanted Hermione to keep her distance. Coughing into his hand once more, he decided to once again forget anything, and everything to do with Hermione. He had done it once before, he could do it again.

He hoped.

Draco scowled the entire way home that day. Making a quick stop to the drugstore he picked up some cough suppressant, hoping to alleviate his problem for the amount of time it took him to find a new doctor and schedule a new appointment. No way he could return to the last one knowing Hermione went there. He couldn't chance another meeting. Everything he had worked so hard for would crumble so fast, and he couldn't let that happen.

Popping a cough drop into his mouth, Draco made his last round around his flat to make sure everything was in place. Seeing a cup in the sink, he decided to quickly wash it before going to bed. He knew if he didn't it would haunt him, and he would never get a wink of sleep until he did. Drying it off, and putting it in its place in the cupboard, Draco sighed, satisfied.

Slowly making his way to the bedroom, Draco realized just how weary his body was. All his muscles ached, and it was a struggle just to turn down the sheets, and climb into the soft, clean, and downy bed. Draco pulled the blanket over his shoulders, arms aching in the process, and rolled on his stomach. He was out the second he settled into a comfortable position.

Draco awoke the next morning groggy, achy, and in a generally bad mood. Immediately he began coughing, and hacking. 'Perfect,' Draco thought. He could still taste the cough drop he had taken the night before. Upon opening his eyes, he discovered everything was blurry. Rubbing his eyes, and blinking a few times to rid himself of it, Draco moved the covers aside. He practically fell out of his bed as he once again began to cough.

Dragging his feet to the bathroom, Draco turned on the tap to get the water heated up. Yawning, he rubbed his face, and plopped down on the toilet, propping his head up with one arm. He very nearly fell asleep just like that, until his head falling jerked him awake. Draco couldn't remember being this tired in a long time. Feeling the temperature of the water, and deeming it perfect, Draco removed his pajamas, and stepped in, sliding the door closed behind him.

Situating himself under the warm spray of the water, he placed both hands on the wall in front of him, and hung his head. Draco had already figured out that today was going to be one of those days where he hated the world, and the world hated him.

He began rubbing the shampoo into his hair, but stopped suddenly when he felt something hard, and sticky. What was this? Draco felt, and prodded with his fingers trying to figure out what it was. Giving it a slight tug, he discovered it was well and truly stuck. His eyebrows furrowed as he stepped out of the shower, still covered with soap. Walking over to the mirror, he dripped water, and left small puddles in his wake. Something he would normally never do, but there was something stuck in his hair for fuck's sake!

Turning his head to the side he peered in the mirror, moving his blonde locks around, trying to locate the- whatever it was. Finding it a few seconds later, he discovered that it was red. Red? What on earth...Draco had gotten the cough drop from last night stuck..in...his...hair.

If one where to have been on the outside of Draco's bathroom door, they would have heard any, and every curse ever invented, as well as a few Draco made up on his own.

Half an hour later, Draco stepped out of his bathroom with a manic look plastered on his face. Storming to his bedroom window, he swung it open and hurled the offending cough drop as far as he could.

"Fucker!" he shouted. Closing the window, he leaned his head upon it. Groaning, Draconeed the pay. However, he was pretty sure his clients wouldn't be happy about having to reschedule their appointments. He knew he wouldn't be.He realized he had either gone completely mental, or he was more tired that he originally thought. As a result, he was yelling at cough drops.

Checking his alarm clock, he saw he was going to be late for work if he didn't hurry, and he still had to mop up all the water he had trailed everywhere. Wondering if he should just call in, he did a few quick mental calculations, and discovered that he could take the day off. His finances could take it, he didn't me into Draco's life, make him feel all these things, causing nothing but a mess. Draco hated messes.

Draco shook his head, berating himself. Taking the day off, just because he felt a little under the weather was irresponsible. He couldn't shirk his responsibilities just because he felt like it. Quite honestly, he was surprised he even thought of the idea. The last time he had taken a day off had been...Damn it. All he had to do was talk to the prat for five minutes, and already he was thinking crazy. How on earth did she do that to a person?

Once he was satisfied with his job on the bathroom floor, he quickly dressed and took one last look at his flat before he left. Perfect. Picking up his keys, and briefcase, he stopped for a second, his cough once again taking over. He would really have to get a jump start on finding a new doctor.

Draco opened the door, and nearly had a heart attack.

Hermione was standing in the hallway hand poised, and ready to knock.

Hand on his chest, Draco's initial shock caused him to gasp, making him have to stop, and cough, hacking, trying to get enough air into his lungs.

Hermione leaned forward, and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder saying, "Are you alright?"

Draco looked up, and saw the worry, and concern in Hermione's eyes, almost giving in. Moving out from underneath her hand, Draco glared at her. A million things ran through his mind, the foremost being, "How did you know where I live?"

"I picked up a phone book, Draco. It's not that hard to do," Hermione answered.

Draco immediately made a mental note to change his information to unlisted. "What do you want?" Draco snapped.

"Just wanted to drop by, see if you wanted to grab a cuppa, have a chat," Hermione said, looking adorably cute with her hands in her pockets, shoulders shrugging, and a hopeful look on her face.

Draco was sorely tempted to accept Hermione's offer. He could feel the words slipping out of his mouth before he even put any thought into it. He just barely caught himself in time. "Yeah-I don't think that's such a good idea," Draco said, giving Hermione a glare. Who did she think she was to be able walk out of his life then walk right back in again? "If you'll excuse me, I have to get to work," Draco huffed, pushing past Hermione, and locking the door. He didn't have to have eyes in the back of his head to know that Hermione was staring at his ass. He could feel it.

"I see you've been taking care of yourself," Hermione let out huskily.

Draco's heart skipped a beat at Hermione's voice. That voice that she only used in the bedroom. Draco felt his heart beat faster in his chest, his breathing pick up-all it did was cause him to start coughing, completely ruining the mood Hermione was trying to create. For once, Draco was glad to be sick.

When he could breathe smoothly again, Draco whipped around, and growled at Hermione, " I think you'd better leave." Dashing past her, he made his way to the elevator, jamming his thumb over, and over into the button, frustrated because he knew doing so wasn't going to make it move any faster. Sighing, Draco hung his head, hair falling over his eyes...he had forgotten to do his hair!!

Hermione still standing in front of Draco's door, looked over, hearing Draco cursing up a storm. It looked like he was having an narcoleptic fit.

Draco stopped his tantrum, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Taking slow, even, deep breaths, he nearly cried out with joy when the elevator doors opened. The mirror in front of him showed Hermione standing right behind him, a wry smile on her face. Draco glared at her through the mirror. Stepping inside, he pressed the button for the first floor, watching once again as Hermione disappeared. It ended differently this time, however. Just as the door was about to close, Hermione stuck her foot through what little space was left, making the doors slide open once again.

Draco's glare seemed glued to his features as he watched Hermione step inside, and stand next to him, holding her hands in front of him.

"Sorry, didn't feel like waiting for the next one," Hermione told him, face forward, looking at Draco in the mirror in front of them.

"Of course," Draco spit out.

Silence reigned supreme, until Draco's coughing broke the barrier.

"Have you been taking what the doctor gave you?" Hermione asked, the same concern as before showing in her eyes.

"I have not," Draco replied.

"Well why the bloody hell not?" Hermione cried. "Don't you want to get better?"

"I haven't been taking anything because the doctor didn't give me anything, Granger. I left before he could," Draco explained, adjusting his tie. Was it getting hot in here?

"Why on earth did you do that?" Hermione questioned, looking at Draco as if he were stupid.

Draco thought back to the doctor's examination, thought of what he was thinking, and blushed. He could feel Hermione's shoulder brushing his own, and it only made him all the more red. Damn her.

"I don't believe that is any of your business, Granger," Draco spat, harshly. It really was hot in here.

"Well you are going to go back, aren't you?"

"Absolutely not. The man is a crack pot. I'm going to find a new doctor. Someone who at least has half a brain, and knows how to listen to their patients," Draco replied. Why on earth was he telling her all this? He didn't have to explain anything to anyone. The elevator doors opened, saving Draco from having to explain any further. Leaving the elevator, and heading towards the buildings front entrance doors, Draco found himself stopped and spun around by a light hand on his shoulder.

"Granger, I swear to god-" he stopped short when Hermione placed something in his hand. "What's this?"

"Something for a rainy day. Just wanted you to know you can call me if you ever need anything," Haermione answered, once again stuffing her pockets with her hands.

Draco looked up at him with one aristocratic eyebrow raised high. "Why on earth would I want to call you?" Draco asked. God, but this woman was gorgeous.

Hermione merely shrugged and said, "I'll be seeing you around, Draco."

Following Hermione with his eyes, Draco watched Hermione's retreating back as she left the building. Draco grew angry, and began stomping after Hermione, prepared to give her a piece of his mind. Why did she think it was okay to show up and completely throw him for a loop? And, furthermore, who gave her permission to look that bloody shaggable? Damn it all to the bowels of bloody hell. Stepping outside, Draco spun around in a three-sixty, looking for Hermione, only to discover that she had disappeared. Clutching the paper in his hand, he held it up, and began inspecting it. He didn't recognize the number.

One by one the numbers blurred together as a few falling raindrops hit them before the storm came.

"Draco," someone softly whispered.

A great green field, split straight down the middle was all around him. The chasm in the middle was wide, and a rolling, gray mist could be seen spewing forth from it. It's tendrils reaching out for anything that came close. Draco kept his distance.

"Draco," the voice was more insistent this time.

There she was, though, across the field on the other side. Hermione stood with her hands in her pockets, and a beautiful smile lit up her face. Ever so slowly she walked forward. With every step he took the chasm closed slightly. Draco wondered if he walked forward as well, would it close faster? Deciding to find out, he took a few steps forward. Happily, Draco saw that what he thought would happen, did.

Hermione lifted a hand in greeting, as she saw Draco moving as well. Draco smiled warmly at the welcome, his heart lifting at the thought of finally being able to be with Hermione after so long...

Draco awoke abruptly, after the hand that was propping his head up was pulled out from underneath his chin. He just barely saved his head from connecting harshly with the table.

"Draco!" Pansy hollered into his ear.

Blinking, and looking around, Draco tried to take in his surroundings. Rubbing the side of his face, where he was sure there was a red mark, he looked over to find Pansy staring down at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Nice of you to join the living, Draco. I just came in here to remind you that your meeting with Mr.-" Pansy stopped short when she noticed Draco's head bobbing as he tried to stay awake. "Draco, are you listening to me?"

Draco's head shot up, his eyes wide as he feigned consciousness the whole time. "What? Of course I am, Pans."

Pansy narrowed her eyes accusingly at Draco, who had once again nodded off. "So, Draco. I was wondering what you thought of my new thong?" Pansy asked, testing him.

"Hmm? What? Yeah, that sounds great, just leave it on my desk," Draco replied, groggily.

Pansy rolled her eyes at Draco's obliviousness. "Draco," she began, shaking him awake. "Go home, and get some rest."

"I can't go home Pans. I have way too much to do," Draco said, shuffling, and stacking papers on top of his desk. "You're my secretary, you know how full my schedule is right now."

"Yes, and I also know that you haven't gotten anything done because you've been tired, and sick as well I might add," she explained as Draco began coughing heavily. Pansy patted him on the back, rubbing in soothing circles as she looked in Draco's red eyes. "Go. Home."

"Pans-"

"I'm giving all your clients over to Blaise whether or not you go home, Draco. So you might as well listen to me," Pansy said picking up his files, and heading towards the door. Once at the door she turned, and said, "For the last time. Go home, Draco."

"Yes, mother," Draco replied sarcastically, his voice sounding rocky.

"Good boy," Pansy said leaving.

Draco sighed, and began packing his briefcase. Pansy hadn't taken everything. Maybe he could get some work done at home, regardless of how much he just wanted to fall into bed, and sleep for the next few days. His head felt so big, and heavy he was surprised it fit through the door. His chest hurt from coughing, and his throat was positively raw. Draco's whole being was weary, but he refused to give in to it, no matter how much his muscles screamed at him to stop moving, and just rest.

"Bye, Draco," Pansy called after him in a sing-song voice, knowing she had won.

Draco merely grunted in reply, heading past Pansy's desk, and down the hall towards the elevators. Instinct made him look around for Hermione. Not paying attention, Draco walked straight outside and into the downpour that was currently slamming the city. Immediately his clothes were soaked through, and his hair was drenched. Damn weatherman. Hadn't he said it wasn't supposed to rain until tomorrow? Reaching for his umbrella, he realized he had left it at home.

Draco looked out over the congested traffic, looking for a free taxi. None were available, and Draco cursed his rotten luck. Why hadn't he gotten the limo like Blaise had suggested when he got his own?

Hiding under the eaves of the building, Draco considered his few options. No way was he going back up to his office. He couldn't take anymore of Pansy's insipid mothering. Walking home wasn't an option either. Normally it wouldn't bother him, but twenty blocks in the rain didn't sound like fun, plus he didn't think his body was up to it at the moment. The subway was absolutely out of question. Draco shuddered at the filth that was down there.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he looked out over the bumper to bumper traffic, and scowled. His fingers brushed over something in his pocket, and he took it out inspecting it, when he remembered what it was. Hermione's number that he had been given over a week ago. He couldn't understand the reason why he had put it in his pocket this morning, but now he did. All it was, was a few numbers jotted down quickly on a piece of paper, yet Draco's heart raced looking at them. Could he-no-should he call her? Draco was so tired he really couldn't think straight at the moment. Rubbing his tired eyes, he stared down at Hermione's number one last time.

Fuck it.

Pulling out his cell, Draco quickly dialed the numbers, putting all other thoughts out of his head except for what Hermione had said when she gave him the slip of paper.

'Something for a rainy day.'

"You knew, didn't you?" Draco asked, watching Hermione driving, both hands on the wheel as she made a turn. Shuffling his feet he was met with garbage. Bags of take out food, empty soda bottles, receipts, and whatever else Hermione deemed to throw in the floorboard of her car. Draco's lip curled like it had a million times before when he encountered a mess.

"Knew what?" Hermione asked not-so-innocently, eyes bright with laughter.

"You and your freakin' psychic abilities. You knew that I was going to call you, didn't you? That's why you said that," Draco calculated, looking away from Hermione and out the window.

"Said what?" Hermione questioned again.

"Stop playing stupid with me, Granger. You knew, and I know that you knew. This whole innocent charade of yours gets old. You do this every time, and I have told you..." Draco trailed off. He was getting too comfortable with Granger. He was beginning to feel like he used to back then, and that was extremely dangerous.

"Just, please, take me home, "Draco sighed, covering his mouth when he began coughing heavily. He had to admit the sound was not attractive. The sound of a crinkling take out bag hit his ears when he moved his foot. Draco restrained himself from shuddering, trying to ignore the disorder at his feet.

Draco took to watching the road, and the traffic around him as silence took over the small space inside the car. The yellow, and white lines of the road blurred together, as Draco began to get lost in thought. Shifting, trying to get more comfortable, he really wished he had some dry clothes. He cursed his stupidity. Why hadn't he just gone back inside? Looking over at Hermione, he came to the conclusion that it was all her fault. If he wasn't so caught up in trying to decide whether or not to call her...Draco knew that wasn't fair. Right now, though, he didn't care. He needed someone to put the blame on for his discomfort, and Hermione was the perfect scapegoat.

Hermione turned suddenly, and Draco looked around in confusion. Where in the hell was Granger going? This was not the way to his flat.

"Granger-" Draco began, stopping to cough.

"I am taking you to the emergency room, Draco. Don't argue with me," Hermione said.

It was the tone Draco had heard a million times before. The tone he knew not to argue with. It was like Hermione put some sort of power behind it, to get people to do what she was telling them to. Draco was prepared to just sit back, like a good boy, and do exactly as Hermione said, when something occurred to Draco. Granger was in no way his boss or superior. He did not have to listen to her.

"Fuck you, Granger. I am not going to the emergency room. There is absolutely no need for it, " Draco said in-between coughs.

"The hell there isn't Draco. You're sick, and you need to see a doctor," Hermione said, taking another turn, honking as someone cut her off. "Bastards."

"Granger, let me out," Draco ordered.

"What? No! It's raining, and cold out there. You're sick enough already. No way am I letting you out."

"I'm getting out of this car, one way or another. Now, let me out," Draco demanded. "This was a stupid mistake."

"Fuck," Hermione cursed as the light turned red, making her have to come to a stop. Quickly before Draco could open the door, Hermione hit the locks, and held them. "Draco-".

"No! Let me out this instant!"

"Why can't you just listen to reason for once?" Hermione asked, irate. "Why do you always have to control everything?"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, a sign that he was losing it. She recognized it immediately, but she wasn't giving up so easily. One way or another, she was going to get through to Draco.

Granger, so help me God, if you don't let me out of this car-". Draco stopped when he heard the locks click. Looking over at Hermione, he saw her looking out the window, rain leaving trails down the pane. Elbow on the arm rest, and hand over her mouth, she sighed and looked over at him. She was seeing something. Draco knew when she covered her mouth like that, visions were racking her brain.

"Mione?" Draco dared a soft whisper.

"Get out."

It was that tone again. This time Draco obeyed. Opening the door, he stepped out into the cold rain. Making a mad dash to the curb, he rounded the corner, trying to get out of view of the car. Leaning against a bus stop, Draco clutched his chest, trying to breathe. Taking in slow, even deep breaths, Draco tried to control his emotions.

Every time he was with Hermione, that was how it happened. Hermione would say something insane, and Draco would call him on it. Hermione would yell, Draco would yell back. A fight would happen. The only time they weren't yelling at each other was when...A hiccup caught in Draco's chest as the feelings of how Hermione would take care of his every need, make him feel like the only person in the world that mattered. A choked sob nearly escaped, before Draco slapped a hand over his mouth to stop it. His eyes closed tight, to keep the tears from escaping.

He still loved Hermione so much. But-it just couldn't work. Draco understood that. Why couldn't she? What was she trying to do, coming back like this? He should have never called her, he should have thrown the number in the trash, the moment he got a chance, but he just couldn't do it. No matter how much he wanted to, it was like throwing away his life. It was like throwing Hermione away, and Draco didn't want to.

Breathing deeply, and finally being able to get himself under some semblance of control, he pushed off the bus stop and began heading home. Rain be damned. He was already as wet as he was going to get. Hanging his head, he began the long walk home, with only one person on his mind.

FLASHBACK: Draco had finally come home after the longest day of his life. He could hear the music coming from their flat before he reached the door, and he knew that Hermione was trying to drown out the images. Normally, it didn't bother him that much, but today it was an inconvenient annoyance that would have to stop. Unlocking the door, he pushed it open, but it got stuck against Hermione's shoes blocking the way. Draco drew in an irritated breath, letting it out slowly.

"Hermione!" Draco yelled out to nowhere in particular, trying to locate what part of the flat Hermione was in. If Hermione answered he couldn't hear over the noise she liked to call music. Draco was more of a classical man himself. Stomping over to the stereo, he turned it off, and called out to Hermione again.

"I'm in here!" Hermione cried out in answer.

Draco began slipping off his tie on the way to their bedroom. On his way he passed the kitchen, and stopped dead in his tracks. He really couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was like some sort of disgusting food bomb exploded all over his counters, and then spilled over onto the floor. What the hell happened in here? Draco walked in and looked around at the spills, the sticky glops of what looked like ice cream that were left on the counter. Drips ran down the cupboard where they pooled, drying on his precious white-tiled floor. Great. That had better not stain.

Rolling up his sleeve, Draco huffed tiredly, and began picking up Hermione's mess for the umpteenth time. Picking up all the dirty dishes he began to place them in the sink. How could one person use up this many dishes in one day? Trash came next, and then he could wipe everything up. Draco was going through in his mind the way everything had to be done, and the order it all had to be done in, when Hermione walked in.

"Hey. What are you doing? I was going to clean that up," Hermione said stopping him and placing a hand on his arm.

Draco looked over Hermione's disheveled appearance. Wrinkled clothes that were sporting stains of the same variety Draco found in the kitchen and tousled hair that looked as if it hadn't seen a comb in years. Looking at the hand on his arm, he saw the dirt underneath the fingernails, and pulled his arm away with a curl of his lip.

Storming out of the kitchen he stomped to the bedroom, and once again was stopped dead in his tracks. Dear sweet, mother of-. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, and Hermione peeked warily around the corner of the door, trying to gauge Draco's reaction, and whether or not she should come in.

Draco's eyes went wide when he saw the ice cream bowl, laying sideways, dripping its remnants on...on...

"My Egyptian Cotton sheets!" Draco screamed, pulling at his hair. His control was slipping, and he didn't care. What the hell was Hermione thinking! Rushing over, he picked up the bowl, and saw that it spilt on his table as well.

"Just fucking WONDERFUL!" Draco cried, flinging the bowl at the wall where it shattered. Hermione jumped like a frightened child at the noise.

"I'm sorry," she said meekly.

"Yes, you're always sorry aren't you, Hermione," Draco replied, ripping the sheets off the bed in a fury. "You know, you know how much I can't stand-" Draco stopped when one corner of the sheet didn't want to come lose from under the mattress. "-how much I hate it when you leave shit like this. You know how I am, and yet you continue to completely ignore that fact."

Draco began carrying the bundle of sheets towards the door, when his foot caught on one of Hermione's shirts laying around haphazardly, and he fell face first to the hard, unforgiving floor below. Draco let out a muffled scream into the sheets, before he picked himself up with as much dignity as he could muster.

Fury was permanently ingrained on Draco's brow when he lifted the lid to the washing machine, and threw the sheets in. Slamming the lid down he yanked the water on, and stopped when he felt warm, slim arms slide around his torso from behind.

"Draco. I'm sor-"

"I'm going out," Draco announced coldly, leaving her behind. Putting his jacket back on, he picked up his keys and opened the door, slamming it behind him. Hermione stood watching the door, before her eyes dropped to the floor, and she walked back into the empty apartment.

Draco didn't know where he was going, and he didn't care. He just needed somewhere where he could breathe easily, and not have to worry about-well, about anything. His walk was heavy, and he could feel the jolts shoot up his legs every time he put his foot down. He knew he looked like a crazed man, but he didn't care.

A few blocks away, he walked into the first bar that he saw. A smoky haze was the first thing that he noticed, and he was tempted to pick his old habit back up. Then he thought of the smell it would leave in his apartment, and he immediately discarded the idea. Picking a stool far away from anyone else, he sat and ordered his drink.

Picking it up, he downed the entire contents in one quick gulp, feeling it burn on the way down. Signaling for another one, he placed his hands in front of him, and began to brood. He knew he wasn't always like this. There was a time when he could let his inhibitions go, just let loose. There was a time when he didn't have a care in the world.

It changed with him, and he found out just how out of control things could get if one wasn't paying attention. Suddenly, without warning he found himself needing to be in control of everything. It didn't matter how small or frivolous it seemed, Draco had it under his thumb. Downing his second drink, he sighed heavily, and put his head in his hands, trying to get a grip.

Why had he let himself get like this? When had he become so out of control with his control? Was he the one who needed a reality check? Knowing he had overreacted, and taken it out on Hermione, he felt the guilt begin to seep into his bones. He really hadn't meant to fly off the handle like that, and he knew that Hermione hadn't known what a horrible day he had had, but damn it something had to change. Things couldn't keep going on like this.

A few hours later, Draco found he was feeling much better after his fourth drink, and he had finally decided that maybe he was a little too uptight. Maybe Hermione could help him to learn to let loose again, help him control his controlling nature. First of all, he knew that an apology was in order, and to do that he needed to go home.

Paying his tab, he exited the smoky establishment somewhat wobbly, but otherwise okay. Outside, the lights seemed a little too bright, and the noise just a little too loud, but Draco ignored it. He had to get home to Hermione. Mmmm, Hermione...Draco's thoughts trailed off as he thought of what they could do after he had apologized. Maybe Hermione would help him let loose in the best way possible.

Draco tried feebly to force a key into the lock, when he realized that it was the wrong one. Laughing at his own stupid drunkenness, he searched for, and found the right key. When he opened the door, he waited for the feel of Hermione's shoes blocking the way. This time he wasn't really upset about it. It was just how she was, right? The feeling never came, and Draco's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Mione?" Draco called out. Not bothering to slip his shoes off, he looked around the dark apartment. Maybe she was asleep. Draco made his way to the bedroom, prepared to apologize even if he had to wake Hermione up to do so.

He stopped. This time, it wasn't because of a mess. It was because everything was so clean. Finally taking the time to look around, he saw that Hermione had cleaned absolutely everything. Draco himself couldn't have done a better job, and he was thoroughly impressed. A soft, loving smile spread across Draco's face as he thought of what Hermione had done.

Opening the bedroom door slowly, he walked in the dark over to the bed, and lay down. "Mione?" he whispered softly, his arm reaching to the other side, searching for him. Draco was met with the flat surface of freshly washed sheets. "Mione?"

Draco got up and turned on the lights. Hermione wasn't in the bed. Draco crossed over to the bathroom, and opened the door. Not in there either. Draco frantically searched the whole flat.

She was gone.

Draco took in the fact, and sullenly began undressing, placing his clothes in the hamper where they belonged. Carrying his shoes, he put them neatly side by side in the closet, and lay out his clothes for tomorrow. Taking a thorough shower, not skipping any of his steps, he dried off, and put on his pajamas. Brushing his teeth, he stared at himself in the mirror. No emotion shown on his face. He was a blank doll, following a careful routine almost as if someone else where holding the strings, making him dance to their every whim.

Pulling back the sheets, Draco climbed into bed, and lay on his back. Staring at the ceiling, breathing evenly he waited for sleep to overtake him. Something in him knew that Hermione wasn't coming back, that she had left for good, and Draco had already accepted it as an inevitability. There was nothing else for him to do, but continue on. Just like he had before, and just like he was doing now.

They all left eventually, anyway. Draco was surprised Hermione had lasted as long as she did. :END FLASHBACK

Draco practically collapsed into his flat. He couldn't feel his fingers anymore, and while he didn't know, he was pretty sure that was a bad thing. Coughing weakly, as he really didn't have the strength left to do even that, he dropped his keys on the table. They fell off, landing on the floor with a jingle, but he couldn't be bothered to pick them up. Toeing of his shoes slowly, he left them in front of the door. Stumbling into the living room, he looked at the couch, but for some reason it wouldn't stay still. It kept moving around.

Draco was suddenly incredibly cold, but he could feel the sweat running down his brow, and back. Clearing his throat to try and keep himself from coughing, Draco decided the best option was to take a shower. He couldn't crawl into bed like this. He walked past his bed, longing to flop down on it, and never wake up. He didn't though, he still had some control left...

Draco stripped his clothes off, and left them lying on the bathroom floor. He stepped on his pants, feeling something hard underneath his feet when he did so, but he ignored the slight cracking noise it made, and stepped into the shower. Turning on the tap, he ignored the cold feeling of the water, and merely waited for the warmth. It never came. Draco turned the tap higher to make the water warmer, but no matter how high he turned it, it was still cold.

Dizziness swept over him, and he sat down on the tiles below him. Suddenly the water was way too hot, but he couldn't make his limbs move to turn it down. Sitting with his knees to his chest, and his arms wrapped around himself, Draco hung his head. A dark, inky blackness began taking over from the outside, until all that was left was a pinprick of light. His last thought before he passed out was that, hopefully Hermione had made it home okay in the rain.

Draco awoke feeling warm, and safe in a bed he didn't recognize. Everything was blurry as he looked around. Beside him, someone with copper- colored hair slept in a chair, with their head on his bed. Lifting his arm, he discovered that it was attached by a tube, to something next to his bed. Damn. He was in the hospital.

Draco shifted, trying to get more comfortable, when he woke up the person sleeping next to him.

"You're awake," Hermione said, surprisingly happy despite how they had parted ways last time.

"How did I get here?" Draco asked, trying not to pay attention to Hermione. She always awoke looking like she just had the shag of her life, and it was terribly distracting to Draco.

"Well, I called the ambulance when I found you passed out in the shower," Hermione began to explain.

"What? How on earth did you know I was there? Did you see me?" Draco asked referring to Hermione's ability.

"No, actually. You called me."

Draco racked his brain, trying to remember when he had called Hermione, but couldn't for the life of him remember. It hit him suddenly, that what he had stepped on before he got in the shower was his cell phone. Then it also hit him, that when Hermione had found him, he was naked. Draco felt his cheeks grow so warm, he was afraid they would catch fire. It wasn't as if Hermione had never seen him in the nude before, but that didn't make it any less embarrassing.

"That was an accident," Draco replied.

"Yes, well it was an accident that saved your life," Hermione said, sitting up, and stretching her arms over her head. "Unfortunately for you, you have pneumonia."

Draco sighed in irritation. Wonderful. Now he would have to miss work. No way would Pansy let him set foot in his office if he was sick like this. She would skin him alive, and Draco didn't quite fancy that idea.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, breaking Draco's musings.

Looking over at him, Draco asked, "What on earth are you sorry for? Apparently, you saved my life."

"I never should have told you to get out of the car. I should have taken you straight to the hospital like I said I was going to," Hermione stated, hanging her head and fiddling with her fingers.

"Mione, I would have left, whether or not you had told me to. You, and I both know that."

"Yeah, but-just-I don't know," Hermione mumbled.

Draco rolled his eyes at Hermione, and decided to change the touchy subject. "Where is the doctor? And when can I leave?" Draco asked, already looking for an exit.

Hermione laughed at Draco.

"What on earth are you laughing at, Granger?" Draco sneered.

"Nothing, it's just-you. It's just how you are," Hermione told him, smiling warmly at Draco.

Draco was at a loss for words upon seeing Hermione's smile. It pulled on all the right heartstrings, and Draco was following where it lead him. Whipping his head around, he looked at the wall. He couldn't get caught up again like that. That was asking for trouble.

"Stay here. I'll go get the doctor," she said.

"Yeah, like I could go somewhere if I wanted to," he replied.

"Draco, I have absolutely no doubts that you can do whatever you want to do," she said cryptically, leaving the room.

Draco was left to ponder on what Hermione meant. Pulling himself up into a sitting position, Draco realized just how much effort that took. Sitting back, breathing heavily, he understood that maybe he really was as sick as Hermione told him he was. Looking down at his arm, he was highly tempted to pull out the tube in place, and was just reaching down to do so, when Hermione walked in with the doctor.

"Don't even think about it, Draco," Haermione warned, knowing exactly what Draco was about to do.

Draco grumbled under his breath.

Someone else came walking in, carrying a tray laden with food. Swinging the table around, the woman smiled falsely at Draco, and laid his dinner in front of him. Draco looked at it as if it were going to grow legs and start walking away at any moment.

"Mr. Malfoy," the doctor began. She was a comely woman, slightly shorter than Hermione, with rounded features. "I see you haven't been taking very good care of yourself."

"Really? I was under the impression that I was brought here for the wonderfully prepared, five-star meal," Draco said sarcastically, picking at the food in front of him. "You must let me meet the chef so I can congratulate him on a job well done."

Hermione snickered at Draco's response.

"I see," the doctor said haughtily. "In that case, I can always keep you here a few days longer. This way you will be able to enjoy it everyday."

Draco looked up at the woman, smirking. She was good, but Draco was better. "Well then, I shall make it a point to vomit in your presence after every meal so that you can enjoy it as well. That's only fair, don't you think?" Draco asked, crossing his arms over his chest, a smile of triumph on his face.

Looking over at Hermione, the doctor asked, "How do you put up with him?"

Hermione laughed, shrugging. She started to say something when Draco interrupted her.

"She doesn't," he snapped, giving the doctor an evil glare. Who was she to assume such things? And if anyone here were putting up with anyone, he was putting up with her.

The doctor cleared her throat under Draco's gaze. "Mr. Malfoy, you are free to go. I believe after a week here, you are more than ready to go home, though you will need to pick up your prescription at the pharmacy. Oh, and is there anyone that will be able to help you at home?"

"A WEEK!" Draco screamed. "I've been in here a whole week? How did I miss that?"

Hermione looked at him and answered, "You where in and out of it, for awhile. When you did wake up, you were a little delirious."

"Delirious?"

"It is normal, in a case like yours, Mr. Malfoy. Now, do you have someone that will be able to help you at home?" the doctor asked again.

"Help me at home? What on earth are you talking about?"

"What I am saying is, is that you will need someone to help you around the house. You need at least two week's bed rest. You're body is much too weak at the moment-"

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much. I don't need anyone helping me about, and irritating me with their incessant care," Draco said, vexed at the very idea.

"I can do it," Hermione offered, slightly raising her hand.

Draco's eyes grew wide, and his jaw dropped. "Absolutely not. What if you catch it, too?"

"Your pneumonia is inactive right now, but you will still need rest, and antibiotics to fully recover," the doctor said.

"I don't care. I can do that on my own." There was no room for argument in Draco's voice, but somehow, Hermione found a way to do it anyway.

"Draco, get up," Hermione commanded, motioning for Draco to move.

Draco narrowed his eyes, wondering what she was on about, but made to move off the bed. He flipped the blanket back, and shifted his legs off the side. He was already breathing heavily, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. Ever so slowly, he lowered himself into a standing position. Dizziness made him lose his balance, and he saw the floor coming at him at an alarming speed. Everything stopped when he felt a pair of warm, slim arms, envelope him.

"What are you going to do by yourself at home, if I'm not there to catch you?" Hermione asked softly into his ear. Draco turned his head, and found himself face to face, not more than an inch apart with Hermione. He could feel her warm breath upon his lips, and he dropped his eyes to stare at pink, soft lips. Licking his own, Draco felt his heart beating so hard he thought for sure it would come pounding out of his chest at any moment.

Turning away before he was caught up in the moment any further, he nodded his head softly in agreement to Hermione coming to watch over him. He really wanted to cry, he could feel the tears teasing his lids, begging to be released, but he wouldn't let them. His chest ached in a way it hadn't in a long time, and it had nothing to do with his illness.

"Where are my clothes?" Draco asked clearing his throat, sniffling. Turning his back to Hermione, he slipped out of her grasp, and held himself stable against the bed. Hermione brought Draco's clothes over and lay them next to him on the bed. Turning his head away from Hermione so that she couldn't see the tears in his eyes, he choked out, "Leave me."

"Draco, I can help-"

"I said, leave me."

Draco waited, listening to the sound of two pairs of shuffling feet as they left the room. He heard the door click shut behind him, finally letting the tears fall. Putting his head in his hands he willed the feelings he was having for Hermione away, but they, like his traitorous tears, didn't listen to him. Shaking his head, Draco began to ponder on what he was going to do now that she was going to be in his house, around him, taking care of him, not leaving for 'at least two weeks'. He didn't think his resolve could take that. It was already being chipped away, and Draco didn't think it could last much longer.

Weakness. Draco deemed his feelings for Hermione as a weakness. They were making him weak. Look at him, crying like a little girl, wanting comfort from the one source he refused to take it from.

Shutting the thoughts out of his head, he began to dress. It took him a lot longer than usual, but he did it nonetheless. A knock resounded throughout the hospital room. Draco looked over his shoulder and saw Hermione peeking her head in. Draco quickly turned away, trying to keep the evidence of his weakness hidden. Hermione had seen the red puffiness of his eyes, and knew that he had been crying, but stayed silent, knowing Draco wouldn't appreciate her bringing it up.

"Are you ready?" she asked attentively.

Draco nodded his head, not trusting his voice at the moment. He was sure it would betray him like everything else had. Quickly wiping his face with his hand just in case there were anymore tears left on his cheeks, he turned around, keeping his head down as he allowed her to guide him into a wheelchair like an invalid.

"You okay?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," Draco bit out. Guilt hit him at snapping at Hermione. "I'm fine," he repeated, softly.

She smiled. "Okay then, here we go."

Draco was wheeled throughout the hospital trying to find the pharmacy, because Hermione was too stupid to ask someone where it was. Draco had finally had enough, and asked the first person in scrubs that he saw to point them in the right direction. Once he finally had that resolved, he picked up some prescription he couldn't even pronounce before he was wheeled out to the exit, where he was left while Hermione ran to get her car.

Draco was not looking forward to the drive. Yawning widely, he felt worn out already, and he hadn't even done anything. All he wanted was to get home without any uncomfortable awkwardness, and to take a nap. Draco was already making a new schedule for the week, his old one now being null, and void. Wonderful. Calculating in his head how much time certain things would take, and on what day to do what, he saw Hermione pull up, and hop out, smiling.

"You're doing it again, aren't you?" Hermione asked as she walked up to him, and took hold of the wheelchair.

"Doing what?" Draco asked, not knowing what she was talking about.

"Your making lists, and schedules in your head. I can tell by the look in your eyes," Hermione told him, wheeling him over to the car.

Draco was taken aback. She remembered that? After all this time? His eyebrows furrowed. As he thought on this little tid bit of information, he let Hermione help him out of the chair, and into the car. Hermione reached for the seat belt, prepared to buckle Draco in, when her hand was slapped away. She was too close to Draco, and he let her know it.

"I can do that myself, thanks," Draco said, not daring to turn his face. If he did he knew he would find himself in the same situation earlier in his hospital room.

"Sorry," she apologized, looking sheepish, and rubbing the back of her head.

Draco slipped his seatbelt on, while Hermione returned the chair. Looking down at the floorboard-wait, he could actually see the floorboard. That meant that Hermione had cleaned out her car. Draco immediately began to think back on that day when he had come home, and everything had been clean. Hermione hadn't done this for him had she?

The sound of the driver door opening stirred him out of his stupor, and he looked over at Hermione as she swiftly slid into her seat. Draco looked at her with what one would almost call tenderness, but he turned his head quickly enough that Hermione hadn't seen an inkling of it.

"Ready?" Hermione asked, eyebrows high.

"Yes," Draco replied, crossing his arms, and leaning his head back, prepared to nap the whole way there in order to avoid awkward conversation.

"Are you hungry?"

Draco opened one eye lazily and looked out of the corner of it at Hermione. "Maybe."

"I can pick us something up on the way. What would you like?" she asked, turning out of the hospital parking lot.

"I don't care. Anything is better than the slop they serve in there," Draco said, motioning with his head towards the hospital.

"All right. Well, how about I drop you off at your flat, let you take a nap, and I'll whip something up for you?" Hermione smiled genuinely at the thought, and Draco couldn't turn down a smile like that.

"That sounds-absolutely wonderful." The part to Draco that sounded the most wonderful at the moment, was the nap. He could feel his eyelids growing heavier by the moment.

"Granger," Draco began. "When I was in there, you said at times I was delirious."

She nodded her head in answer, lips tight.

"Did I-did I say anything to you?" Draco asked, watching as Hermione's grip on the steering wheel grew so tight, her knuckles turned white. "Granger?"

She laughed sadly, shaking her head, not willing to answer.

"Did I?" Draco asked again, pressing the issue.

"Yes. You said quite a lot of things," Hermione answered grimly, keeping her eyes on the road.

"And?"

Hermione drew in a deep breath, and sighed, not really wanting to divulge the information Draco was asking about. Draco had to, had to know, what he had said to her. He had to know if he had let anything slip, let anything out that he hadn't wanted to.

"You asked me," Hermione started forlornly, "why you still loved me."

'Shit,' Draco thought, wondering if he could open the door, and just fall out into traffic. Surely that would have to be less uncomfortable, and easier than this conversation was.

"Then you wanted to know if we could just be friends," Hermione finished, coming to a stop at the red light. She kept both her hands on the wheel, and stared straight out in front of her. Her face didn't give away any inkling to how she was feeling, but Draco knew.

"I would like that, you know," Draco said, finally looking over at the gorgeous, upset woman.

"Like what?"

"To be friends. I know we don't exactly get along all the time-okay, most of the time," Draco corrected himself, when Hermione looked at him as if he had gone bonkers. "But, I really would like to be your friend."

Hermione looked at him, calculating her options. Draco felt like he was hanging off the edge of a cliff, and Hermione was standing at the top, deciding whether or not to let him fall, or help him up. It was a horrifying feeling, not knowing if he had said the right thing. Not knowing if she was going to take his hand, and pull him up.

"Drive, fucker!" HONK!! HONK!!! "Move it, asshole!"

Hermione whipped her gaze back to the red light, only to see that it had turned green some time ago. Hitting the gas, the honking stopped, and the silence took over again.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime to Draco, Hermione said, "I would like that, too."

Draco could smell something wonderful drifting about his bedroom, where he was confined. Coming to from his rather short nap, he rubbed his eyes tiredly, looking like an innocent three year-old when he did so. He knew because Hermione had told him millions of times before. However, Hermione also knew he was far from innocent on many, many levels.

Looking up, he saw Hermione leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest. Seeing the smile upon Hermione's face, Draco interrupted her before she could speak.

"I know what you're going to say, so don't." Draco didn't want to hear anything that would bring up too many memories. He would rather get through his prison time still intact, and without any injuries. It was going to be harder than he thought when Hermione spoke.

"I'm saying it anyway, you three year-old."

Draco's lips closed into a thin line as he looked away.

"Anyway," she began, sensing the awkwardness in the room. "Dinner will be ready in a few, so I hope you're hungry. I'll bring it in for you."

Draco watched Hermione's retreating back, and blushed. He saw that Hermione had been taking care of herself as well. Very well, from the looks of it. Sighing in relief when she was out of sight, he held a hand against his chest, coughing slightly. Falling back against his pillows, Draco put an arm over his eyes. This was hell.

Hearing Hermione rattling around in the kitchen, he panicked. Hermione had been in there for-glancing at his clock quickly-two hours! God only knows what kind of mess she was cooking up in there! Flinging the covers back, he slowly slid off the bed, and braced himself against one of the bed posts. Pushing off of it, he began his slow trek towards his kitchen. Both arms against the wall, he headed down the hall, and turned the corner, staring in surprise.

It was-clean.

There were no goopy messes, no spills, no drips. There had to be at least one mess in there, and Draco made his way over to thoroughly inspect everything.

"Draco! What are you doing? Get back in bed!" Hermione cried in disbelief. "Are you listening to me?"

Draco's eyes roved over every surface, every counter, cupboard, the sink, the stove. Nothing. Gritting his teeth, and furrowing his eyebrows, he tried to make sense of the situation. This was-infuriating! This was not how it was supposed to be!

"Draco?"

"What are you doing?"

"Making dinner?" she answered, questioningly, eyebrow lifting.

"Where's the mess? The-the destruction of my kitchen?" Draco asked.

"I tried not to make one, and if I did, I cleaned it up. Draco, this isn't my house, it's yours, and as such, I have to respect it," Hermione stated. "Why are you blowing up because there's no mess? Shouldn't you blow up because there is a mess?"

Draco started to answer, but was stopped when he began coughing harshly, bracing himself on the counter.

"Draco, don't kill me."

Draco peered over at Hermione, wondering what she was going to do. Hermione quickly walked over to Draco, and scooped him up in her arms, holding him bridal style.

"PUT ME DOWN!! Granger!! I'll kill you!" Draco was irate. Coughing into one hand, he beat Hermione feebly with the other one. "Put me down!!"

"I'm taking you back to bed," she said. "I thought I asked you not to kill me?"

"Yes, well I don't ever remember saying that I wouldn't, so put me down before I do!"

Draco was finally put down, in his own bed. Scowling at Hermione he pointed a finger at him, shouting, "Don't you ever do that again!"

"What, help you out?" she asked.

"I'm not in the mood for games,Granger," Draco answered, crossing his arms. Turning his head away, he felt his heart racing in his chest. He could still feel the warmth of her body against his own, and it put many, many different thoughts into his head.

Draco faintly heard a 'ding' come from the kitchen, and Hermione left immediately. A few minutes later she returned, burdened with a tray, covered with food. Draco's stomach growled loudly when he smelled the delicious aroma. He had always known Hermione could cook, but he thought she might have outdone herself.

Placing the tray on Draco's lap, Hermione said, "Here. I hope you like it."

Watching her turn, and leave, Draco wondered where she was going, and asked her.

"I'm going back to the kitchen to eat. Why?"

Draco eyes traveled away from Hermione, thinking. He really wanted her to stay, but would that be getting too close? He had said that he would like to be friends, right? Friends ate together all the time, at least he thought they did. He only had a few friends, and he only saw them at work. It suddenly hit him just how lonely he was, how much he really would like some company.

"Would you-would you like to eat with me?" Draco asked, unsure of himself, and looking at Hermione out of the corner of his eye.

Hermione grinned, saying, "Yeah, sure. Be right back."

The next two weeks went rather well, Draco thought. He had somehow opened up, not noticing how much fun he was having laughing, and just enjoying Hermione's company. He couldn't really remember everything that they had talked about, having talked about so many things, one right after another.

The conversation they were having had come to a lull, and Hermione picked up the paper he had been looking at earlier in the week. Flipping it out, and creasing it down the middle, she spread it out in front of her, eyes grazing over it slowly.

"Anything interesting?" Draco asked.

"No not really. I'm just looking for a new apartment," she said, keeping his eyes on the paper.

Draco grunted in response. Taking a sip of his coffee, Draco thought over what Hermione had just told him.

"Something wrong with your old one?"

"No. I got a new job, and it requires that I move," Hermione said sullenly. Trying to move the conversation in a new direction, she said, "Would you like some more coffee?"

Knowing exactly what Hermione was doing, Draco nodded, holding his cup out to her. When she had left the room, Draco picked up the newspaper, and looked over the spots Hermione had circled. He didn't recognize any of the places named, nor the streets. Flipping to the front page, Draco's eyes widened incredibly. America? Hermione was moving to the States?

Draco still had a grip on the newspaper, when Hermione walked in carrying a fresh cup of coffee. Looking up at her with a saddened confusion, Draco asked, "When?"

"In a week or so. When I am done taking care of you, I suppose," Hermione replied, looking at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

"I see," Draco stated, agitated. So, Hermione thought she could just come back into his life, get as close as she could without touching him, and then up and leave like she did last time? 'We'll see about that,' Draco thought.

"Are you upset?" Hermione asked. "I would have told you, but I didn't think you'd care."

"You didn't think I'd care? What on earth made you come to that conclusion?" Draco asked, sitting straight up.

"Well, let's face it, Draco. Our relationship isn't exactly sunshine, and rainbows."

"So you just automatically assume, because I get upset with you at times, that I won't care that your leaving, and that I will probably never see you again?"

"You didn't really seem to care last time," Hermione replied, voice low.

The blow hit Draco hard. How could she even think that? How could she even deem it okay to think that her leaving hadn't hurt Draco in such a violent way that he closed himself off to others for such a long time, afraid to let them in, just in case they did exactly what she did? Draco ground his teeth, feeling the hurt all over again.

Draco slid off the bed, and walked ever so slowly to the bathroom, slamming the door hard behind him. He flipped the lock, and slid down, back resting against the door. Taking in a deep breath he let it out slowly.

"Draco?" Hermione asked, knocking on the door.

Draco didn't answer.

"Come on, Draco. Open up," Hermione said, jiggling the doorknob.

Draco kept his mouth in a tight line, refusing to talk to Hermione at the moment. How dare she? How dare make assumptions like that?! What was her problem?!

"Draco! Open the door!" Hermione yelled, beating her fist over, and over against the unforgiving wood. "Draco! Please, open up!"

"Go away, Granger!"

"No, open the door so we can talk," Hermione said, forehead leaning against the door.

"I have no desire to talk to you at the moment. Go away!"

"I'm not going anywhere," Hermione said, sliding down, and settling in for a long wait against the door frame.

Three hours later, Draco gently cracked the door opened, and peered out into the darkness. A thin ray of light coming from the kitchen shown through, and landed on Hermione's sleeping face. She always looked adorable when she was sleeping, and Draco heart melted at the sight. No way could he stay mad at her when she looked like that.

There was only one problem. In Draco's three hours of bathroom confinement, Draco had decided on one thing. Hermione had to go. There was no way she could stay. Draco would hire someone to come, and help him out for the last week. Draco loved Hermione, but he just couldn't allow her to stay, knowing what would happen. He would become so attached again, even knowing she had to leave, but this time, Draco didn't think he would be able to handle it. He had barely hung on after the last time. Sure, from the outside, one would have said that Draco was fine, but he knew he was an impeccable actor. Pansy hadn't even known that Hermione had left until two months after she was already gone.

Hermione stirred, rubbing her tired eyes. Looking up at Draco, she went into instant action. She quickly hopped up onto her feet, and took Draco into her arms whispering, "I am so sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."

Draco was so caught up in the warmth, and love radiating from Hermione, that he forgot he was supposed to push her away, refuse her attentions. He could feel Hermione's hands running through his hair, and down his back. Her hot breath caressed his neck as she apologized over, and over again, begging Draco to forgive her.

Hermione pulled her head back, bringing her face to face with Draco. Placing both her hands on either side of Draco's neck, she pulled him forward, until their foreheads were touching, and whispered so low that had Draco not been so close he never would have heard it, "Love you."

The bed was cold when Draco woke up, but he didn't think anything of it at first. Until last nights events replayed over in his mind, and he shuddered in wanting to do it again. Sitting straight up, he looked over at the side of the bed Hermione had occupied last night, finding it empty. His chest felt heavy with hurt, and he picked up the pillow Hermione's head had been resting on, inhaling the unique scent. Feeling the tears well up in his eyes from his now obvious mistake, he threw the pillow across the room, and watched it land in front of the door.

Draco's eyes widened as the door opened, pushing the pillow to the side. Hermione stood in the doorway, bag in her hand, and a bright smile on her face.

"Good morning, luv," Hermione said, eyes shining brightly. "Sleep well?"

Draco was about to answer that he had had the best night of sleep he'd had in five years, when he stopped himself. "Where the hell where you?"

"I decided to go out, and get us some breakfast. Hungry?" Hermione asked, holding up the bag she was carrying as she walked towards the bed. She smirked hungrily when she saw how the sheets draped sexily over Draco's body. Draco blushed, and pulled the sheet up higher around himself.

Draco had finally figured out that Hermione knew all along that this was going to happen. She had seen it that day in the car. Normally, Draco would be upset about the fact that she had kept it from him, but he thought, somewhere along the way he had learned to let such things go. He had learned to hand over the control every once in awhile, and it felt incredibly uplifting to do so.

Hermione sat on the bed, laying out the food, and said quickly, "I was also out turning down my new job."

Draco gaped at her in confusion. "Why on earth did you do that?"

"Well, I figured it would be kind of pointless to keep it if I'm going to be staying here," Hermione replied, looking at Draco out of the corner of his eye.

Draco smirked, and crossed his arms in front of his chest saying, "Rather presumptuous of you, Mione."

"I don't think so,"she said, turning to him, and smiling. She quickly kissed Draco, and handed him his breakfast.

Draco smiled, eyes alight in happiness as he declared, "You know, something. I don't think so, either."

Author's note: Me, again! Please excuse any mistakes and about Mione carrying Draco, He was weak and light so yeah... skin and bones type and well she was 'taking care of herself'...


End file.
